Open Your Window, I'm Hopping the Fence
by purrpickle
Summary: Shameless Pezberry drunk texting with a side of drunk calling. Kinda sorta maybe okay really ridiculous one-shot.


**A/N: **I do not own Glee nor the characters within. Real life fact: last Monday, I experienced my own brand of drunk texting, and voila, this fic was born. I apologize in advance for your eyes, but I promise the whole thing won't hurt them. Also, fair amount of OOC in this, but you know, that goes with random sometimes. Ahh... I so love to be random. *grins*

Oh, and my drunk texting? Grammatically correct with full sentences and logical thought. I have no regrets!

* * *

><p><em>Hey sexy laddyy im booord u wanana cum ovr an sit onnmy face<em>

_Y arnt u talkkin 1 me im hornyy_

_U stl mad t me i srry jeezz i didnt mean 2 cal u rache whn u ate me ouutt _

_Santana, I'm not Brittany._

_Who r u then an git ou my phne convo_

_You are the one who texted me, so I cannot be held responsible for your conversations. Which you are having with yourself. Although I do find it interesting that you invoke my name while… Indisposed._

_Wha_

_This is Rachel._

_Shit u heardd bout me keep sht or imma go limaheighgts _

_No one would believe me even if I told them, and that's not really something I'd share, anyway._

_Gud whatu wearng_

_Santana, this is RACHEL. I'm NOT Brittany. And what I'm wearing is none of your business._

_I wanna kno anmal sweeter or hott ass skirt ur leggs luk gud round me_

_Okay, you're not even making sense anymore. I suggest you stop drinking, as the amount needed to get you this delirious cannot be good for your health._

_I mean wud luk gud round me u alonne_

_Waht fuck of i can drnk if i want too u shud cum ovr bet u im better then finnpotentt_

_I'm staying right where I am._

_Get ur hott ass ovr her i wannt my tongu n u_

_You're going to regret this in the morning. All I ask is that you do not touch my nose. It is, after all, my livelihood._

_U 2 ur home_

_I'm sorry; I don't understand Drunk._

_Jesus u at homme_

_Home. Yes. Where I'm not leaving._

_Then oppen ur window is hoppin he fence_

_Don't be ridiculous. Your house is across town from mine. And you're in no state to go anywhere, no matter my house. Even if you are stubborn enough to attempt it, I am not going to open my window. It's cold, and I cannot afford to risk getting sick._

_Ur a fuckkin pussy cum ovr so i can fck u if ur not opning the windo_

_Honestly, Santana. You have such a way with words. I don't know why I'm even humoring you. _

_Cuz im bettr then fincens he aint nethng like me i cn makke u scream allnighgt long jus tke a ride on my face_

_Again, you have such a way with words. With the level of intoxication apparent in your texts, how are you able to write them?_

_U cummin ovr_

_No, Santana. As I am not inclined to want you to perform… Sexual acts on me, there is no reason for me to go over to your house. Besides, you apparently have Brittany for that._

_No i wnt u_

_u drve me insaane wth ur mouth n legs ur so fuckin smll is wants to pickk u up n fuk u agaist th wall an here u scrammin my name ud taste sweet righgt lke berrys as u cum alll ovr my fave is also wannts ur lips in mi ne_

_I really wish you would stop being so crude. It's not very attractive. It's also not achieving what you're hoping it will._

_Lie then nked cudddle_

_What? No. Of course not._

_Fiiiiiiine normal cuddlels_

_I do not anticipate any moment where cuddling with you would be 'normal'. Please, put your phone down, Santana. I'm about to stop answering you altogether. This has already gone farther than it should, and I'm hoping with my repeated protests your punishment won't be too strenuous. _

_No pain ill make it wortth it_

_Prmise_

_Hobbit tlk 2 me_

_Hbbit_

_Talk 2 me_

_Berry_

_Rachll_

_Fine I cll u_

"…Good evening, Santana."

"Raaaaychell… Berrry."

"Yes, that is who I am."

"_Not_ Britts."

"Correct."

"You're very hot, Berry. I wants… I wants to _lick _you."

"Oh my goodness. Santana, are you still drinking?"

"Yes."

"Then stop – "

"Water. I'm… Drinking water. You want some water?"

"Water. No thank you."

"What's wrong with water?"

"There's nothing wrong with water. I just don't – "

"You don't like water?"

"I like water. I'm just not thirsty."

"…Oh. Okay. Can I drink you?"

"I – _Santana_. _No_."

"Why not?"

"I'm not a drink. And frankly, don't you have more respect for yourself?"

"I don't… Understand. I's be Santana fucking Lopez. People respect the shit out of me. Or I hit them."

"…I'm sure you do. Again, I ask that you do not touch my nose. Various other body parts of mine would suffice just as well."

"I _like _your nose."

"…You do."

"It's cute. I'm glad you didn't get the surgery. 'S'not worth it."

"I cannot believe I'm having this conversation with you. Is this a dream? That would explain _so much_. But when would I have fallen asleep? Before or after my English homework? Oh, I hope it was after because I do _not _wish to have to rewrite that essay."

"You're always talking. Can't you… You can… Your lips can do better things."

"No, I'm not talking to Santana Lopez. This is a dream."

"I dreamt about you last night."

"I don't want to hear this."

"You… Britney Spears outfit… Against the piano. _Mmm_…"

"_Santana_."

"You know you want to heeeaar thiiis."

"No, I really don't. Good night, Santana."

"Good nigh – ?"

_U hung p on me_

_Hbbit i cnt belive u hng up on me_

_Hobbit_

_Fine srry bout talkn boutt fuckin i just wannt 2 kiss u i ur very pretty ive liked u 4 long time nd dont kno wat 2 do bout u u sing awsum whn i here u i jus want u morre_

_And u havve prtty eyes_

_Do you really mean that about my eyes?_

_Yes _

_And that aside from all your… Vulgar language, you're attracted to me?_

_Ur attrctive_

_You've liked me for a while?_

_I sed that dint i_

_With emotional feelings?_

_Dont wanna tlk bout thatt cn i kiss u_

"Hell…O?"

"Good evening again, Santana. I apologize for just as suddenly calling you as I had just as suddenly hung up on you. Which was rather rude of me; however I feel almost justified, due to the way you were speaking to me. But regardless. I'm calling you now because I feel the need to get confirmation for what you are writing. This isn't a practical joke? You're not playing me?"

"I may be a bitch but… I wouldn't… No."

"_No_…?"

"'S'not joke. You… You're hot shiiiiii-stuffff."

"Thank you for censoring that. Though perhaps I should feel ashamed for taking advantage of your inebriated state, it's almost undoubtedly true that you won't remember this in the morning. Which means, I have a list of questions I wouldn't mind you answering."

"What do I get for… Answering 'em? I don't just give myself away for free, you know. You should know. You're… Do I get you?"

"I'm with Finn, Santana."

"Hah…! Took you long enough to mention him. I… Just try me."

"Question number one: When, exactly, did these feelings of yours develop? Was it the first time you heard me sing? I've been told my voice could wake sleeping angels… Which, now that I think about it, may not be the compliment I thought it was."

"When I first… Wanted to fuck you?"

"If you _must _phrase it that way."

"…First week of ninth grade. You, fricken' insane short skirt and knee socks, bending over the… The… Water drinking thing. I saw your ass and _knew _I wanted to get to know you."

"How… Surprising."

"But you turned out to be a loser. Dammit."

"…And _that_ brings me to question number two: If you've had these feelings for me, a) how could you treat me like you _do_, and b) why didn't you do anything about it? I can repeat each part for you if you should need it."

"God, you talk too much."

"I do _not_."

"Mmm… Whatever. What… Was the first part? Ohh… Nachos! Muchas gracias, Mamí. Mmm? No… Homework. Berry. Yessss. She's _horrible _at… Writing, so I'm helping her. Over the phone. Yessss. No. I've had a horrible cough all day so I took some of that, you know, ultra cough syrup Papí brought home. Sí. I will. Promise. Yes, Mamí! What? _Noooooo_. No – I – not fair! Whyyyyyy? Fine. _Fiiine_. _Rachel_."

"…Yes?"

"You're coming over tomorrow."

"Wha – "

"I mean! Tomorrow. Dinner. My house?"

"You sound so eager. With that tone, how can I say no?"

"…That a yes? Mamí, she said yes. Happy? I… Me? Go and let me _eaaaaaaaaaat_! …Finally. Even though I'd rather be eating you, nachooooos."

"…Please don't kill me when I show up at your house tomorrow because you won't remember I'm coming. Also, I'm strictly vegan, so I'd appreciate it if you – "

"Beeeerrrrry. If I don't get to nibble on those lips of yours, _stop yappin_'. 'Sides… Mamí's vegan."

"I… I don't want you to do that. I mean, she is?"

"Yup. Long time. You gonna open your window now?"

"No! Santana. If I may redirect you to my question."

"…Nahh."

"What?"

"Nah. My mom killed the mood. At least I'll get to corner you tomorrow, at dinner."

"…Santana? You're… You're sounding awfully sober."

"I wonder why? See you at eight, Berry. Don't be late."

"Santana. _San _– you. You. You were _sober this whole time_?"

"God you're slow. Who the hell would be able to type that badly but still be understood if they were really trashed? _Fuck_, that was annoying to figure out. But really, your reaction was _priceless_. 'Santana, don't _say_ those words. Santana, I'm such a prude I can't even _refer _to oral sex. Santana, I can't even _let _myself admit how much I want to jump your smokin' body'."

"I would _never _say that. And – that's beside the point! Why… How… What… I can't even _think _of what to say! I can't _believe _you!"

"Too bad. You will when I claim those plump lips as my own with a flag and compass and a large x that says you're mine."

"_I'm with Finn_ – "

"But he'll never be enough for you. And even if I don't get a taste of you tomorrow, I'll make it so you go home thinking of nothing but me. Thinking of my mouth on you, of me making you scream so hard they'll hear you in the satellite that's orbiting the earth right now, of nothing but the sound of my voice whispering things in your ear that'll make you _so wet you could swim in it_. You'll go home so out of breath and weak that you won't even be able to crawl into bed before you're fucking yourself so hard while you try to tell yourself not to call me so I can do it for you. I'll have you, Rachel Berry. Sometime before the end of this year, I'll have you, and you won't be able to have anyone else without thinking of me and what I was able to do to you. You might be denying this right now, and that's all right. You want to know why?"

"…Why?"

"Because I can hear your breath catch. Your voice has gotten lower, and you're biting your lip, aren't you. I wasn't lying when I told you I've wanted you for years. I know how you _react_."

"I… Why are you telling me this?"

"Now? Because yesterday, whenever we were changing, your eyes wouldn't _leave_ my ass or body. Just a tip: if you don't want to be caught, you might want to choose a time for your leering for when the person you're leering at isn't in front of a _mirror_. Rookie mistake, but I'll overlook it. Told me you were _finally _ready to sample what I's got."

"Santana…"

"Aww, that's so _cute_. You're _speechless_. Good. _Stay that way_."

"But – "

"Nuh uh, Berry. That's enough for tonight. You'll need your rest for tomorrow. Oh, and Rachel…?"

"Yes…?"

"Don't be late."

"I – Santana – you – _those weren't even parting words_! You can't just hang up on me! _Santana_! Oh _my_ – the _nerve_ of that girl! Who does she think she _is_? I can't believe she… She _can't _be serious. She _can't_. And she's mentally deficient if she even _thinks_ I'm going to go along with her plans. I'm not going to dinner at her house, _no_ matter her mother. I'm not. I won't. I… I _wasn't _looking at her. She's delusional. She's… She's…

…

…

…

"… Kurt? Hi. Oh, that's nice. I'm happy for you. But first, me. I have a situation of the utmost urgency, and I'm afraid I need your advice. _Yes_, it's real this time. No, not Joni Mitchell. Nor Barbra. No. No, it's… Santana. _Yes_, Lopez. Santana Lopez. You see, _she's_ my situation, and I'm not sure I like what she's making me think."


End file.
